Freedom
by Swaggiest Purple
Summary: What if America never won the Revolutionary War? How would things have changed? World War II is fast approaching, but all he wants is his lost freedom. England doesn't want to let him go for more reasons than one. USxUK; rated T to be safe!


_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia!

_A/N:_ Thank you soooooo much **Iaveina** for betaing this story! ^_^ You're the best!!! -hugs-

This is an idea that came to me and that I decided to flesh out! =D I hope you guys enjoy it! I have no idea if there's an other story like this, so if someone's already done this idea, I'm sorry! D:

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**Freedom**

**Chapter 1: Meeting**

America calmly sipped his tea while waiting for a certain someone to get to his house and join him. He sighed bleakly and looked out into the wilderness of the backyard of his Virginia home. He often looked back there and wondered if anything would have been different had he won the Revolutionary War so many years ago. It had been dumb luck that they had gotten as far as they did, but once England finally shifted his attention back to their rebellion, he quickly secured a victory at a crucial point in the war and put him back in his place.

Alfred, at first, was still willing to put up a fight. But after he saw the condition that his people were in, he realized that it would have been pointless to continue, and quietly subordinated himself to his colonizer.

England was just hurt that America had even considered declaring war on him. When he won, he was patient with him and tried to build their relationship up again. America went along with it, but sometimes he felt as though he were faking it at times, and only pursued their special connection so his people would be happy. Of course they got into disputes at times, but, remembering his failed attempt at freedom, he never considered it again and often gave in to anything that was demanded of him.

The American's thoughts were disrupted when he heard rushed footsteps on his lawn and then saw the face of his master: Arthur Kirkland. He was panting and had apparently been running for some time.

"I haven't missed the afternoon tea I promised you, did I?" England asked hurriedly.

"No, I've only just served myself." Alfred smiled slightly, but it soon faded. Even this smile wasn't usually a happy one; his blue eyes were dull most of the time, never bright with true joy. He spoke in a slight British accent too, because of the continuing influence that Arthur had over his country. "Here, I'll get you a plate." He stood, unhurried, and walked inside.

"Good, good," England commented after him, sitting down at the table that Alfred had set for tea. He watched the Virginian woods as well, the same thoughts gracing his mind as had America's a few moments earlier. He sighed uncomfortably while he waited for his colony to get the scones and cakes. He wasn't an idiot; he knew that America had changed ever since the war. He didn't have the same spark of life that he had before, back when he was fighting him on that rainy battlefield before surprise alighted on his face as he saw the backup forces arrive. Ever since the leaders of the rebellion were crushed, he didn't laugh the same way anymore. Arthur himself may not have been able to finish him, but the numbers spoke for themselves, and he ended up winning without causing personal bodily harm to Alfred, a fact he was proud about.

The apathetic-looking country England had been thinking about walked back outside and served his superior. He then sat back down, folded his arms, and cocked his head. "So, what do you want?"

Arthur nearly spit out the tea he had started to drink. "W-What are you talking about? I can visit my own colony whenever I want, can't I?"

"Yes, but you only come for tea when you've got something to talk about. And you don't usually make a show of arriving here on time unless it's important. I know you're always busy, so you can't make it often." Alfred had that strange gleam in his eyes. Sometimes, those ocean-blue depths looked like they could see through anything.

"Alright. You've got me." England chuckled. "Yes. It's very important." At first, he tried to beat around the bush, but after a few minutes of enduring his colony's blazing stare, he blurted out suddenly, "Listen; there's a… _lot_ more trouble in Europe."

"You aren't implying that there's going to be another war?" America's eyes widened in surprise. "I can't. _We_ can't. My people would try to revolt again. There's no way."

"I really need you. Your help would tip the balance over to our favor like in the last war," Arthur replied. "Please bear through it with me."

"I don't know. This is ridiculous. What's going on, anyway?"

England started to explain what was happening on the other side of the ocean while they ate, from Germany rising up again to the Axis Powers forming, and more. The sun was starting to sink beyond the forest now, taking away all the warm, yellow light from the sky and leaving the dark colors of dusk behind.

Alfred had barely moved from his seat. He had been listening intently the whole time, never touching his food even when England would pause in his speech to eat. In fact, the American's teacup was frozen in between the space of the table and his mouth the whole time. He seemed to have forgotten that he was about to take a sip for the few hours that Arthur debriefed him.

"We've already formed the Allies," England concluded. "And I've already joined."

"Therefore I've already joined, as well," America replied quietly, speaking for the first time since the lecture had started. He looked down at his tea and finally saw that it wasn't steaming anymore; it hadn't been for quite a while, and it was very cold now. "Why am I being informed of this last minute?"

"We didn't want you guys to worry since you're so busy here with your own affairs…" England explained. "But I thought you would've known at least some of this."

"I do, but like you said, I'm more worried about what's going on over here. Anyway, I was sure you'd do anything to stop another war from happening." America sighed and set his tea down.

"We tried, but our efforts failed," Arthur protested. "Try to see it from my point of view, please. It was difficult, and complicated."

"I am. It's just that I'm not sure my people can." The way Arthur had explained the oncoming war, it felt like he was hearing it for the first time, and that it was somehow different and unstoppable at this point. But the American people might not see it that way. "They may revolt, like I said."

"We'll calm them down together, like before," Arthur proposed, looking away for a moment. "Right?"

America coughed uncomfortably. "You know, I was thinking that since it's getting harder to pacify them, maybe it'd be best…since it's long overdue…" It was Arthur's turn to stare intently and listen. Alfred gazed downward at the cold tea and timidly suggested, "When this war is over, maybe we could be an independent country. It'd be our reward for fighting."

He did not look up to see the man's reaction, but if he had, he would have witnessed a flicker of hurt cross his face and then vanish into a hard mask of control. "Alfred," he said in a tone that made the colony wince. "Do you resent me?"

"No," America said quickly, not in fear of punishment but in fear of being insensitive. He didn't want to injure Arthur. After his initial betrayal he did not want to see him saddened again, because they were supposed to be like brothers. And one doesn't desert family. "It's nothing like that –"

"Let's leave that open for discussion another time, eh?" England said, even though it wasn't true; he never wanted to talk about it. "Well, I'd better be going home. It's very late."

"Wait, you should stay the night. I don't want you to be wandering around when it's dark out." Alfred tried to smile. "Take the guestroom upstairs, the one next to mine. I insist."

"Thank you." England smiled. "You're very considerate." He made his way into the house from the back door that led into the kitchen. "Are you coming?" He was holding the door open for him.

"I'll be there soon. Let me clean up." America watched until England disappeared up the stairs. Once he was gone, he grabbed the plates and set them on the counter. Looking around nervously, Alfred stuffed his unfinished scones and cakes in the trash, and expertly covered them up with other pieces of garbage. He reasoned with himself beforehand that they had simply gotten cold, but deep down he was sick of them and only pretended to like them when Arthur came to visit.

Alfred washed the dishes with a pounding heart. He put them away using shaky fingers and, hands still trembling and eyes darting to the staircase every so often, he reached into a secret compartment in one of the drawers and retrieved from it a freshly imported hamburger from California. Arthur had once told him that he didn't want to see him eating those disgusting things. America hid them constantly just in case England came for a surprise visit, because they were all he ate nowadays and he didn't want them out in the open.

It was a strange thing, Alfred thought, being addicted to the morsels. As he sunk his teeth into it and took the first bite, he finally seemed to be able to unwind. His broad shoulders became more relaxed; before he had been sitting up straight as a board. Even his face seemed to soften a bit, and his eyes rolled heavenward in bliss. Also, he was now facing the staircase, guarding it like a dog in case he heard footsteps coming down. As soundlessly and as quickly he could, he finished the meal, hid all evidence of his guilty pleasure, and went upstairs.


End file.
